


Invincible

by Tamasha



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coping, Drunkenness, Gen, Growing Up Together, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, Love, Marijuana, Modern Era, Nostalgia, POV Arthur, Partying, Pre-Slash, Protective Arthur, Relationship(s), Sad, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 15:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamasha/pseuds/Tamasha
Summary: Arthur doesn't want to be at Gwaine's party, but he feels obliged to stay, just to take care of those who end up drunk. He is surprised to learn that Merlin is one of the drunk ones, though. Merlin never drinks. And when Arthur finds out why, he knows he will be there for his best friend.





	Invincible

**Author's Note:**

> written by Tamara

It seemed as if everyone on the block, and then some, was at Gwaine’s birthday party on Friday night. Arthur hadn't expected this many, but he was also glad because it meant he could slip out at any time unnoticed if need be. There were loads of bottles lined up on the kitchen counter with varying levels of liquid inside, plastic cups strewn about all over, and the people smelled the way large groups of people tend to smell. Which is  _ never  _ good. Most of the guests had taken their fill of the offered drinks and were moving about the house erratically taking advantage of the space, dancing to music that was far too loud.

Arthur hated Gwaine’s fucking parties.

Elyan was the first to catch Arthur wandering through the house alone. He explained that most of their friends were already shit-faced and that Arthur had better catch up if he wanted to enjoy himself at all. Leon strolled over next, soda pop in hand, with his reserved smile that showed he was not having a fantastic time either. Neither of them were big drinkers in the first place, but parties like this made it easy to stay sober since everyone seemed to act so immature while intoxicated. Arthur, Leon, and Merlin ended up caring for others that drank too much, or were sick in the bathroom. Tonight, however, Arthur wasn’t prepared to play nursemaid. On the other hand, he didn’t want anything to go wrong either and he felt a certain obligation to watch over the guests. Especially the ones who couldn't take care of themselves.

Leon and Arthur stepped outside after a while, since things were too hectic indoors with too little air. “Merlin’s drunk,” Leon blurted out almost immediately, as if he had been holding that in all night.

“What?” Arthur felt a bit sick himself. “He doesn't-”

“He does tonight. Bad week apparently.”

Arthur scowled. Why hadn't Merlin talked to  _ him _ about it? “Oh,” Arthur said coolly, attempting a reasonable front. What he wanted to shout would not be considered reasonable in any sense of the word.

Leon pulled out a tightly wrapped blunt and lit the end of it, inhaling softly. “You know,” he began, offering Arthur the joint even though he knew his friend would refuse, “I think Merlin is going through something huge. He made a joke earlier about trying to get himself killed tonight... and well, I don't need to tell you, but that's not exactly Merlin’s sense of humor. I'm kinda worried, but… he also seemed to lighten up after a few drinks.”

“Why did you let him drink so much?” Arthur bit out, fighting the urge to run inside and find his friend.

“Unlike you, Arthur, I don't boss my mates around.”

Leon was joking, of course, but they both knew his comment was based in truth. Last week, Merlin had told Arthur to stop telling him what to do when he had caught Merlin smoking with Leon in the back alley after work. It had been hard watching Merlin drift in and out of the person Arthur had grown up with, but they weren't 15 anymore and Arthur really needed to learn to let go.

Once back inside, Arthur began his search for Merlin, to no avail. He got caught up talking to old friends: seeing Elena and meeting her new girlfriend Mithian, catching Percival before he fell over, and telling the guest of honor happy birthday, of course. 

Finally, after nearly an hour, Arthur found himself exhausted in a guest bedroom, feeling more despondent than he thought he would be after a failed attempt to locate his best friend. He sat alone on the bed, letting the sounds of the party in the rest of the house wash over him. There was a small grey towel folded over a white chair with a wicker back, and the shag carpet underneath was straight out of a ‘70s sitcom set in America, making the room feel small and vintage. Arthur allowed himself a moment to feel sorry for himself, something his father would scold him for if he knew what was going on in his son's brain. That's when the door clicked open.

A skinny little idiot stumbled through the door, cursing under his breath when he nearly tripped over his own feet. It was so very Merlin, that Arthur almost forgot he was upset.

“Hey there, stranger.”

Merlin startled when he realized he was not alone in the room. “Oh. You're here. Thought you would stay away, seeing as there is nothing but fun here and all.”

Arthur scowled as Merlin almost spilled his drink on his purple shirt when he swayed unsteadily. Merlin finished off his drink with a loud slurp, almost throwing the plastic cup to the side before he thought better of it last second, and set it on the white chair by the door. 

“You should go home, Arthur. I… I… um… I forget. I don’t feel good.” Merlin plopped himself onto the bed and rubbed his eyes with clenched fists like a toddler ready for a nap.

It was enough to soften Arthur’s heart. “What's going on?” he asked softly.

“Go away,” Merlin whined, elbowing Arthur in the ribs.

“Fine!” Arthur snapped, standing with the force of his anger that rushed back all at once. “God, you're a fucking piece of work, Merlin.”

He didn't wait to hear Merlin’s response, since the door slammed shut behind him before he had a chance to speak.

  
  


Back in the sea of noise, Arthur had no idea what to do next. He wanted to go home, but there was still that damn protective part of him that nagged at him to stay, just to be sure everyone was safe. To be sure Merlin was safe.

So he mingled about for another hour, keeping an eye on the stairs in case Merlin came down. He never did. Enough time passed that Arthur was sure something had gone wrong, so he made an excuse to leave the main party and went upstairs to look for himself. 

The door to the guest bedroom they had been in was slightly ajar and Arthur could still hear the slam from his over dramatic exit earlier, so his first thought was that Merlin wasn't in there anymore. He was about to look in the bathroom when he heard giggling coming from the guest room. His blood ran cold when he pushed the door open gently.

A man was straddling Merlin’s prone body, while another seemed to be drawing something on Merlin's face. They were whispering to each other and laughing as Merlin… Merlin was passed out!

“What the fuck!?”

The two bastards didn't even have the decency to blush, let alone react to Arthur’s words. “Relax, mate, he's not -”

The other man didn't get to finish that sentence, since Arthur was already in the room, looking as menacing as possible. “Get the fuck out,” he growled.

They rolled their eyes in unison, leaving as if Arthur had taken away their plaything. They hadn't realized how lucky they were to have gotten off as easy as they did. A year ago, Arthur would have punched them both, maybe even beaten them senseless. He wouldn't have let them walk away that easily. Things were different now. He had a little bit more control over his anger.

His focus, now, immediately turned back to Merlin, because that was what was most important. It seemed the blokes had drawn a penis on Merlin's forehead, and had started to write a word under that began with “F-A”. Though Arthur knew better, he chose to believe it was a much nicer word than the one they were more than likely planning to write. The third letter was the top half of an uppercase “G”, and Arthur had to force himself to ignore it so he wouldn't have rushed back downstairs to kill those assholes. Merlin wasn't wearing shoes and that was such a Merlin thing - going about a party without any shoes on - that Arthur couldn't have been sure if they had taken them or if Merlin had removed them earlier in the evening. He decided it didn't matter; none of Merlin's shoes were worth keeping anyhow, and Arthur had planned on buying him new ones for months prior, even though Merlin had always made excuses, saying he didn’t need charity or he would buy shoes the next paycheck when he had some extra spending money. Of course, that paycheck never came, since Merlin never made more than just enough to get by.

Arthur scooped his friend into his arms, careful as he brought him downstairs. He ignored the comments from his friends and went straight for his car. Leon walked him out and offered his jumper for Merlin, which Arthur gladly accepted. He buckled his skinny mate in the front seat, thanked Leon, and drove straight to his flat.

He couldn't believe this was how this night had ended up; he had never expect to do this for Merlin of all people. But if he was being completely honest, he didn't exactly want to do this for anyone else.

  
  


When Arthur eventually got Merlin to his couch, he was waking up a bit on his own. Arthur had hoped he would sleep through the night, but he couldn't stand the idea of Merlin waking up alone in the dark confused and disoriented, so part of him was glad his friend was stirring.

“Merlin. Merlin? Hey, M, it's Arthur. You're at my flat. You're sleeping here tonight, all right?”

Merlin groaned, scratched his head, and rolled over. “No,” he complained, but then he pulled the blanket Arthur had gotten him over his head. “I don’t want to sleep here. I want to go to Arthur and tell him…” He drifted off, making Arthur's heart ache with anticipation.

_ It must be the ramblings of a drunk _ , Arthur reminded himself.  _ Go to bed, talk to Merlin in the morning. _

“Dad’s dying,” Merlin whispered. “Only Arthur would understand; he lost his mum four years ago and… only Arthur would understand. Stupid prat.”

Arthur froze in place, kneeling in front of his couch.  _ Dad’s dying? But Balinor had gone into remission, hadn't he? _

Arthur rubbed Merlin’s back, wanting to ask more, but he couldn't. Not till Merlin was sober. He stroked Merlin for another moment, waiting to see if he would say more, but after Merlin was quiet for an agonizing five minutes, Arthur stood to get him some water and aspirin from the kitchen. While he was there he grabbed a wet washcloth to wipe off the shit on Merlin's forehead.

He came back and pursed his lips at the sight of his best friend on his couch. It took everything in Arthur's power to not punch through his wall. Instead, he knelt by his couch and gently dabbed at Merlin's forehead till most of the marks were faded.

“I'll leave a glass of water here for you, M. Drink it please. I… I'll be here when you wake up, okay?”

Merlin made an agreeable noise, but his breathing was slowing and becoming more evenly spaced out. Arthur was fairly certain Merlin had fallen asleep, so he got up, even if he couldn't bring himself to leave the room yet.

Three hours later, Arthur finally fell asleep in the chair next to the sofa.

  
  


The harsh morning light woke Arthur with a stabbing pain. He stretched with a groan, regretting the fact that he had picked the chair to sleep in. Then he remembered why he had to sleep in the chair in the first place: Merlin. That brought him awake fully, and blinking into the light of his living room, no sign of Merlin anywhere.

Just then, the toilet flushed and soon enough, a pale and sick-looking Merlin appeared from the hallway.

“Morning,” he croaked, rubbing his eyes in the most endearing fashion.

“Morning,” Arthur echoed. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Erm… I think so. I don’t know, I'm wicked hungover.”

Arthur chuckled. “Yeah, well, I slept on this tiny chair, and my neck is killing me.”

Merlin laughed at that, but it was hollow and slightly forced. “Thanks for… did you try to wash something off my face last night?”

Arthur bit his lip, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “There were some assholes at the party who… I… um, yeah. I did. Sorry I didn't get all of it.”

There was an impenetrable silence that lasted for ages.

“Thanks,” Merlin muttered. “For everything.”

Arthur nodded. “It was nothing, M.”

Merlin’s mouth twitched upwards in the start of a smile, but then it faltered again back to his neutral look.

Arthur didn't think he should ask about what Merlin had said last night when he was drunk. It felt like an invasion of privacy. He was not supposed to know that Balinor was sick again, since sober Merlin hadn't told him. Still. Arthur couldn't let Merlin suffer alone, something he knew his self-sacrificing friend was likely to try to do.

“Merlin,” he said sternly. “Last night you said something… you said your dad… um…”

Luckily, Merlin had the grace to save him. “It's back. Yeah… he has a few months tops, they say.”

Arthur didn't know what to say. “Merlin, I'm… I'm sorry.”

Merlin nodded like he had heard it before, maybe he had, maybe Arthur wasn't the first he talked to about this. Maybe Merlin just didn't trust Arthur like he used to, not enough to tell him everything, at least. Arthur would have hated it, but he would have understood in some backwards sort of way why Merlin had stopped trusting him: Arthur had done nothing but judge Merlin for the past year. Merlin had changed, maybe, in some ways, but deep down, he was the same boy who had grown up five blocks away from Arthur. Despite all the changes, though, Arthur would have still done anything for his friend. After over ten years of friendship, he would have done anything in the world for that boy - man - who stood before him.

Merlin walked to the couch, sitting with a sigh as he hugged his stomach. The silence between them built tension in thick walls that made the room feel cramped. Second after second ticked away on the clock above the bookshelf. In time, Merlin looked up and whispered, “Can we go get some lunch and… and well, maybe talk about it. I… I don't know who else I could come to with this.”

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed, voice small and too weak to take this on. But he had to try. And he wanted, more than anything, to be there for Merlin while he was suffering. The same way Merlin had been there for him when his mother had died. Arthur wouldn't abandon his friend. Ever.

“Yeah. You can tell me or ask me anything, Merlin, you know that.” And when Merlin looked up at him, eyes full of fear, Arthur believed something he hadn’t expected: Merlin trusted him entirely. 

“I do,” Merlin agreed. In those two words, more was said than any other words could have conveyed. In those two words Merlin had apologized, accepted Arthur’s own apology, asked for help, and trusted Arthur to help him through something he couldn't do on his own.

It was all the confirmation Arthur had needed. They may have had some ups and downs, but they would never leave each other's side, and that was all there was to it. They were inseparable, and somehow that made them invincible.

“Good,” Arthur breathed. “I will be here.”

“I know, Arthur. I know. Thank you.”

“No problem, M. No problem at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit old, but hurt/comfort is always relevant. I'm glad I finally posted it. I hope you enjoy it. As always, comments are appreciated! Thanks for reading!


End file.
